


Awakenings

by Wilusa



Series: Later Imaginings [2]
Category: Carnivale
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-11
Updated: 2011-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilusa/pseuds/Wilusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A succession of characters wake to face the consequences of that fateful night in New Canaan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stroud

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.

Varlyn Stroud let out an oath that turned into a groan. Then he sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

 _Wh-what the hell happened? Where am I?_

If not for the moon, he would have been in pitch darkness...

Then he remembered, and reeled off another string of oaths.

He'd been about to enter the shed, happily singing "She'll Be Comin' 'Round the Mountain When She Comes" in anticipation of raping that bitchy maid - and then, of course, killing her. He hadn't felt free to rape her till he was sure Brother Justin had no further use for her. But when he was ordered to kill her, he'd decided to have his fun first. There was clearly no need to hurry back to help Justin. When Stroud had last seen him, he'd looked strong enough, and furious enough, to tear the carny boy limb from limb.

But as Stroud approached the door of the shed, someone had hit him from behind. Slammed something into his left shoulder, he recalled. _Yeah, that still hurts. Gonna be black-'n'-blue._ He'd fallen backward and hit his head on the wooden flooring of the porch, hard enough that he'd been knocked out.

 _Shit. Okay, let's see what's been goin' on here._

He got to his feet, noting in disgust that the door was standing open. _Someone musta rescued the girl. Justin'll have my hide._ But as he started toward it, he almost fell over an obstacle in his path.

 _Huh? Holy moley - this here's a dead body! An' whoever it is, it ain't the girl._

The corpse was face down. He turned it over, and fumbled for his cigarette lighter. A small improvement on moonlight.

He took a closer look - and laughed out loud. _Well, whaddya know. Ferris Wheel Guy!_ He was sure the carny's job involved more than that, but to him, he'd always be Ferris Wheel Guy. _Yup, it's him. An' dead as a doornail. Couldn't o' killed him deader myself._

That raised interesting questions. Who _had_ killed him, and why? And where was the girl?

Ferris Wheel Guy had been shot in the chest. Stroud reached for his own gun, but wasn't surprised to find it gone.

Moving cautiously, he opened the door a tad wider...then ventured inside. Common sense told him no one had stuck around. But he didn't feel secure till he'd found and lit a kerosene lantern, and confirmed that he was alone.

He went back to check the lock. It hadn't been broken. _Unlocked - with my key, dammit. They took my keys, an' that means they also took my car._

Sighing, he pondered who "they" might be.

 _Suppose there were two carny men. An' they wanted not just to "rescue" the girl, but to have the same kind o' fun with her that I meant to have. They fought over who'd get to fuck her first, maybe? Or else only one wanted to fuck her, an' the other was a goody-goody who opposed it. So they fought, an' one got killed..._

 _No, that don't work. Ferris Wheel Guy got killed **after** I was knocked out, prob'ly with my gun. I woulda spotted the body if it was there before. An' if carnies had somehow found out where she was an' got here ahead o' me, they woulda just broke into the shed, not waited around for someone to show up an' unlock it._

 _But if someone lookin' to rescue the girl got here the same time as me...face it, he hadda be hangin' onto my car. No other way. An' I couldn't o' missed **two** guys doin' that._

 _Ferris Wheel Guy was alone. He came here to rescue the girl - **an' she killed him!**_

He whistled softly, in something like admiration.

 _Whew. What a bitch. Can't imagine why she'd do that, but there sure is more to her than we thought._

He felt a moment's uneasiness at the thought of that young woman - aware Justin had ordered her locked in the shed, perhaps guessing he'd ordered her killed - heading back to New Canaan in his car. With his gun.

But then he pictured Justin as he'd last seen him, and grinned.

 _No, Sofie won't cause him no problem. He may just decide she's interesting enough to rate bein' raped by the head man!_

x

x

x

He knew he'd have to hoof it back to New Canaan, so he'd better start.

 _Hope I ain't gonna miss **all** the action._

Hefting the lantern, he decided to take it with him. He'd need the light; but beyond that, he hoped he'd get to use it to torch the carnival. _Whatever's left of it._

He paused outside the shed, trying to study the horizon. But as he'd expected, tall trees and a moonlit night combined to prevent his determining whether the carnival's lights were still on. The shed was on a small hill, but it was a hill that rose only slightly above the valley floor. It provided nothing like the view from Justin's house.

 _Lights don't mean much, anyway. If they're on, it could just mean there ain't no carnies left alive to turn 'em off._

Snickering at that thought, he started walking. Fast.

x

x

x

As he skirted the camp, near the end of his hike, he wasn't sure what he was seeing. More lights than normal so late at night...people moving furtively from tent to tent...it could mean anything.

 _I know Justin'll hafta do some damage control after what people saw when he got off the Ferris Wheel. Can't imagine how he'll handle it. But I trust him._

He looked up at the house on the hilltop. It was shrouded in darkness.

That bothered him for a minute. But then he relaxed. _Wherever Justin is, he'll be goin' at it hot an' heavy with the bitch by now, puttin' her in her place. Don't need no lights for that!_

He resumed humming "She'll Be Comin' 'Round the Mountain When She Comes."

x

x

x

He scowled, however, when he reached the carnival grounds. The carnival had gone dark - as it would have, by that hour, in any case. But it appeared to be in good order. There was no sign of panic. Men were quietly dismantling some of the attractions, loading the trucks, by the light of lanterns like his own. Others stood guard. A few held guns; most brandished such makeshift weapons as baseball bats, shovels, even rakes. All looked tough and determined.

Stroud thought indignantly, _Ain't Justin gonna kill these freaks? Is he lettin' them leave?_

 _Hell_ ,he realized, _he may have no choice. There's only so much he can cover up._

Then came a more cheerful thought. _Maybe he'll let me follow 'em an' take care o' them later, like I did Daily Brothers!_

He still didn't doubt that Justin had killed Scudder's boy. _Coulda killed that little twerp with one hand tied behind his back..._

But the thought of _hands_ reminded him of what the kid had done to him: ducked his punch and caused him to put his fist through a mirror. The cut on his hand had been the most painful injury he'd ever suffered.

 _Yeah, Justin coulda killed the brat with no trouble at all. But I **hope** he tortured him for hours!_

One way or another, Justin's young enemy was surely dead. And yet...something was nagging at Stroud. He couldn't put his finger on it. But something wasn't right.

 _I know what it is. It may be understandable that the carnival's bein' allowed to pack up an' leave. But why ain't the Knights o' Jericho here, showin' their weapons, lettin' the freaks see who's in charge?_

He decided he'd have to sneak closer, get more of a feel for what was going on. Reluctantly, he doused his light.

As he edged nearer the trucks, he spotted that pesky midget. The midget was deep in conversation with a woman. And when she turned slightly, Stroud recognized her.

 _Iris?_

 _What the hell is she doin' here at this hour? Did Justin send her to do some kind o' negotiatin' with them?_

Stroud's situation was embarrassing. If he hadn't let himself be caught off guard and knocked out by Ferris Wheel Guy - and lost his car - he would have gotten back from the shed hours ago. Then he'd know about Justin's latest moves.

But the bottom line was that he _didn't_ know, and he had to find out.

Feigning casualness, he stepped out of the shadows and strolled forward. "Miss Iris," he drawled. "Fancy meetin' you here."

The midget said politely, " 'Scuse me, Miss Iris. I gotta protect the perimeter." And with that, he whipped out a gun and emptied it into Stroud.

Stroud was dead before he hit the ground.


	2. Stroud

Justin woke with a gasp and sat bolt upright.

 _Wh-what happened? Where am I?_

And then he remembered.

The nightmare on the Ferris Wheel, which he'd only been able to endure without losing consciousness because he'd anticipated something of the sort, and steeled himself mentally.

The fight in the cornfield, where he'd been too quick to claim victory, and had foolishly taken his eyes off the wounded boy.

The dagger thrust into his chest, into his very soul.

 _But...but...it's daylight, and I'm still alive. Alive, in no pain. How can that be?_

He suddenly became aware of his surroundings. He was sitting where he'd fallen, in the cornfield. But the corn was dead, withered. Beyond the cornfield, the grass was brown, the trees inexplicably bare of leaves. A dozen people lay sprawled, motionless...

A voice behind him said "Boo!"

He spun around, then instinctively scrambled backward.

He'd never seen the appearance his eyes and face took on when his demonic aspect came to the fore - though he knew, of course, that something changed. Now he saw how he'd looked to others: eyes dead-black yet smoldering, face a pallid mask.

He was seeing this in a _woman?_ In _**Sofie?**_

 _Can't be_ , he told himself. _Sofie's dead, and_ _ **I'm**_ _dead. I'm in Hell. That's where I expected to go when I died. But instead of being welcomed as a powerful lord, I'm being punished because I failed. Having a crazy hallucination._

Sofie laughed at him.

He noticed for the first time that she was holding a gun.

"You look befuddled, Brother Justin," she said archly. "Do you need me to fill you in on what happened last night? You were defeated. You were _killed_. The great Justin Crowe, killed by a puny nineteen-year-old boy!

"I brought you back to life. You couldn't do it yourself...but a simple housemaid could."

The longer she talked, the clearer his mind became.

 _We're both alive_ , he realized. _Everything she's saying, everything I'm seeing, makes sense - if I just make the leap of accepting that she's an Avatar. It's understandable that Stroud would have failed to kill her. And it seems plausible that another Avatar willing to wreak wholesale destruction could have brought me back._

He knew instinctively that any dark act committed by an Avatar - himself included - strengthened him, the Lord of Shadows. Any use of Avataric power to do good weakened him, at least temporarily. If an Avatar had tried to revive him out of some sentimental love for him, the attempt would have failed. But if the motive were something else, his savior reveling in a new-found power to kill...

 _Very plausible._

 _Everything I've learned - from Talbot Smith, from the Gospel of Matthias, from Scudder's boon - has indicated that only males can be Avatars. But "experts" can be wrong._

 _If Sofie is an Avatar, whose child is she? There's only one realistic possibility: she's mine. Mine and the Gypsy Apollonia's - there was no other woman in that time period._

 _I am unique. I am the Usher! **Of course** my seed is unique as well._

 _I should, in theory, have been able to sense a younger Avatar of my House. But I didn't, because I was so sure there wasn't one._

He said softly, "That's very impressive, Sofie. May I ask how far this devastation extends?"

She smirked. "I have no idea. Probably farther than necessary. I was enjoying myself."

"Yes, I can see that. Did you kill Iris?" He wondered, at times, why he still cared about Iris.

"I don't know. It depends on where she was."

Justin glanced up at the hilltop - the house. The trees there were still alive.

 _So it's confined to the valley. **All of** the valley?_

Sofie leered at him. "Do you want to know _why_ I brought you back to life, Brother Justin?"

"Yes indeed, my dear."

 _"So I can have the satisfaction of killing you myself!"_

He wasn't surprised. "Why, may I ask, would you want to do that?"

"Because you're my father. You raped my mother!"

He got to his feet, letting himself shift into demon mode as well. "So I did. You're showing remarkable loyalty to a mother who devoted her life to keeping you from realizing your potential!" That was a guess, but her involuntary flinch told him he'd been right.

"Shut up," Sofie hissed. "I care nothing for her. Or for you. You both held me back."

He shrugged. "I didn't know you. How did _you_ learn we're father and daughter?"

"Your tattoo. I saw it in visions." As he took a step toward her, she said, "I also saw the rape."

"Unpleasant," he acknowledged. "But would you prefer that Apollonia _hadn't_ been raped? That you didn't exist?"

"Oh, I'm delighted that I exist! But my existence has only one purpose. _To end yours._ "

Justin began laughing. Softly, at first. "Go ahead, Sofie. Kill me!"

She hesitated, seeming to realize something was wrong. But then she aimed the gun at him and pulled the trigger.

Again and again and again.

Again and again and again, the gun misfired.

Sofie's eyes changed. She transformed back into an ordinary-looking young woman, confused and frightened.

She backed away...and Justin kept advancing.

As he walked, he bent and picked up his scythe. He held it out to her. "Kill me with this, Sofie!"

Her eyes were brimming with tears now. But she grabbed the scythe and tried to strike.

When she drew her arm back, she couldn't bring it forward. It was frozen, useless, until she gave up and let the scythe drop. She stood, weeping helplessly, as Justin reclaimed his weapon.

Then he grabbed her by the hair. "Do you know what you've done, infant? I think not. Listen, and understand the evil you've wrought!

"I am the Usher of Destruction. The strongest of all Avatars. I had actually defeated your little friend Ben - I just made the mistake of looking away, thinking he was too badly wounded to return to the attack. He 'won' by a fluke.

"It _was_ a victory, because he was still alive when I died. But he may have died later, or been maimed for life. Do you know whether he walked out of the cornfield under his own power, or was carried out?"

The stricken look that came over her face gave him his answer.

"You brought me back to life," he snarled, "exactly as I was before. That means that I can only be killed by a Prophet. Even he must use a certain kind of weapon, a blade that's killed another Avatar. And Ben - if he's alive - no longer has one."

She struggled to free herself. "You're lying -"

He laughed harshly. "You know I'm not. Your own powers will tell you I'm not." He wrenched her head back and pressed the scythe against her throat. "I could kill you easily. But you can _never_ kill me! Your eyes told me that you are a Prince - or rather, a Princess - of the House of Darkness. I am its Prophet. As the Usher, I can only be killed by someone who's already a Prophet. And _you_ can only _become_ one upon my death!"

He released her, and she staggered away from him, sobbing.

"I could kill you," he repeated. "But I'm going to let you live with the knowledge of what you've done.

"You've _un_ done everything for which your friend risked, and may have lost, his life. You can't kill me. And he can't possibly kill me again unless he provides himself with another suitable weapon - by killing another Avatar!"

She turned and fled. He saw that she was headed for Stroud's car.

What had been Stroud's car.

"Do you understand?" he shouted after her. His voice rose to a howl. "If Ben is still out there and wants to kill me, he first has to kill another Avatar! And the only one remaining is _you!_ "


	3. Stroud

Stroud opened his eyes - and quickly shut them. _**Daylight?**_ _What the hell -? Did someone knock me out again?_

Memories came flooding back. _Omigod!_

He'd glimpsed a gun in the midget's hand. Then he'd felt a horrific impact, been thrown backward...

He sat up and took stock of his condition. No pain, seemingly no injuries. Yet there was blood everywhere - on his jacket, shirt, and pants. Blood, and bullet holes.

 _I should be dead. Maybe I **am** dead, a ghost._

But his body seemed as solid as ever. And he was getting hungry! Nothing he couldn't tolerate, but he knew many hours had passed since his last meal. Ruling out the "ghost" theory, he heaved himself to his feet and looked around.

And wished he hadn't.

The carnival was gone. On all sides, he saw devastation. Dead grass and shrubs, dead people.

 _Whatever kind o' fight there was, I know Brother Justin won it. Maybe he destroyed the carnival so completely there's nothin' left of it. An' some of his followers got killed too, but at least their bodies an' tents an' vehicles are still here._

He wasn't particularly comfortable with that explanation.

 _I musta been dead myself. But Brother Justin brought me back to life, 'cuz I'm his Archangel!_

That made him feel better.

 _First thing to do now is find Brother Justin._

He didn't have the faintest idea where to look. But as he started walking, he heard a familiar voice cry out, _"Do you understand?"_

 _No_ , he thought, even as he determined the sound had come from beyond a cluster of tents and cars.

Justin was still shouting. _"If Ben is still out there and wants to kill me -"_

What followed was so confusing that Stroud didn't even try to figure it out. He was still grappling with the idea of Ben being "out there."

 _All this death an' destruction, an' he thinks he may not have killed the kid?_

Suddenly, he saw a car speeding along the nearby road, toward the camp exit. _His_ car, with the girl Sofie at the wheel!

Hopeless as it was, he turned and gave chase on foot. "Stop! Come back here, you bitch!" Then he realized he could have his choice of a half-dozen nearby vehicles. He picked one whose door was standing open, hurled himself into it, and began fumbling for the keys.

From behind him, Justin's voice called, "Let her go, Brother Varlyn! _You_ come back."

Sighing, Stroud got out of the car and hastened to join his leader - who was just emerging from a completely dead, flattened cornfield. Justin still wore his soiled cassock. He managed to rebutton it, but not before Stroud had gotten a good look at the stains marring his chest.

 _Looks like dried blood, except that it's blue..._

Then Stroud remembered that he'd seen Scudder's blood when he stuck needles in him, and that had been blue. He hadn't dared ask Justin for an explanation.

 _I'd like to think all that blood on him came from Scudder's kid. But somethin' tells me it didn't._

Justin was studying the blood on Stroud with equal interest. "I think we both had bad experiences last night, Brother Varlyn. In your case, that was very lucky."

Stroud dropped to his knees. "About the girl, Brother Justin - I'm sorry I wasn't able to kill her -"

Justin gave a mirthless laugh. "And _that_ , my friend, was a blessing in disguise." But as he gazed down the road - where Sofie's car was already out of sight - Stroud noted that his expression was troubled.

Gesturing to Stroud to get to his feet, he continued grimly, "I'll explain what happened last night. That cowardly boy ran into the cornfield, trying to elude me. I overtook him, fought and defeated him! He was badly wounded, and I was about to give him a swift, merciful death. But I made the mistake of pausing to look up to the heavens. And he had more strength left than I thought. He lunged at me." Looking steadily at Stroud, he concluded, "And he _killed_ me."

Stroud gulped.

After a long hesitation, he said, "B-but you were able to come back to life, right? To, uh, resurrect yourself?"

"Unfortunately, no." Justin pursed his lips in distaste. "Once dead, I could do nothing.

"But that's where the girl comes in. She is in fact my daughter. And no, I hadn't been aware of it.

"As my daughter, she possesses certain powers of her own. Under normal circumstances, they'd be far inferior to mine. But these were not normal circumstances." He shook his head, as if he could scarcely believe his luck. "She brought me back to life - so she could have the honor of killing me herself. But she _doesn't_ have the power to do _that_. So I now have one very unhappy daughter!"

The men's eyes met. Justin chuckled. Stroud allowed himself to smile...

And then they both burst into raucous laughter.

When they calmed down, Justin said casually, "Sofie had to kill other people to restore me to life. And she probably killed more than necessary - I'd guess the numbers are in the thousands, maybe tens of thousands. But no one's come to investigate, so we'll be able to determine what the situation is before we have to explain it." He thought for a second, and rephrased that. "Before we find a way to _exploit_ it."

Stroud said admiringly, "Yes, _sir_ , Brother Justin!"

"And you, my friend? From the condition of your clothes, it appears you were dead, and so nearby that Sofie unwittingly restored you to life along with me."

As Stroud told his story, they chortled over the fate of Ferris Wheel Guy. But their pleasure at the unexpected result of Samson's killing Stroud was tempered by irritation at the carnival's having gotten away.

"I'm sure Sofie deliberately let them escape," Justin grumbled. "And the boy Ben may still be alive! He had to be carried out of the cornfield, but that doesn't prove anything." He scowled. "You said Iris was at the carnival site, talking with the dwarf, late at night?"

"Yeah. You think she was connivin' with them?"

"Had to be. We didn't pick the Knights of Jericho for their brains - with both you and me missing, they would have done whatever Iris told them. She must have ordered them to let the carnies be, and allow them to leave come morning. And she promised Samson he and his men would be given time, after daybreak, to find the boy." Justin looked up at the house, and Stroud thanked his lucky stars that malevolent gaze wasn't directed at _him_. "I think our first priority should be to learn what's happened to my dear sister!"

x

x

x

A half hour later they'd established that Iris was alive, but so traumatized by what she'd seen from the hilltop that she was incoherent. Whenever she looked at Justin, her eyes focused on his chest - covered though it was - and she began to scream.

 _"Traitor,"_ he hissed. "I knew she and Norman were plotting against me, but I made allowances for them because they'd done so much to help me when I was young. I was a sentimental fool. It will serve her right if she remains in this condition for the rest of her life!" Ignoring her shrieks and her flailing fists, he picked her up, carried her to the cellar door, and tossed her down the stairs. Locking the door, he said brusquely, "That's one problem disposed of. Let's see what others we have."

x

x

x

It took them another two hours to determine that New Canaan had been completely depopulated. The bodies they'd seen were unmarked, providing nary a clue as to how the victims had died.

"Seventeen thousand people," Stroud muttered. That was a lot to swallow, even for him.

"All dead," Justin said thoughtfully. "Some must have been alarmed by what they'd seen or heard last night. But the only phone is in the main house...and Iris evidently told the guards not to let anyone leave. If they'd gotten out, police and reporters would have been here hours ago."

"So what do we do now?"

" _I'll_ call the police, of course. After we've eaten! And I'll have to act as if I'm almost as distraught as Iris." Sounding not at all distraught, Justin continued thinking aloud. "The Dignity Ministry fire worked to my advantage, won sympathy for me. This can be made to do the same, on a larger scale. I wouldn't have chosen to lose this many followers. But their deaths will win me more followers - richer, more influential ones."

"Uh, how?" Stroud pressed him. "The way these folks died is creepy. What are you gonna say caused it?"

"Why, the Antichrist, of course!" Justin's lip curled in a sneer. "I almost hope our young friend Benjamin St. John is alive - his powers work in a way he'll find hard to explain. In any case, naming him may help me learn whether he survived. Not a sure thing, but if he's alive, he _may_ surface to defend himself."

Stroud was in awe of Justin's ability to turn an apparent setback to his advantage. He lavished praise on him the whole time they were driving back to the house.

As they were getting out of the car, Justin said slyly, "Am I right, my friend, in thinking you had planned to...take certain sexual liberties with Sofie before you killed her?"

Stroud felt the heat rising in his face. "Um, yeah. But I didn't realize she was your daughter."

"No problem. It's a good thing you didn't try, though, considering what else she is." Justin favored his disciple with a beatific smile. "I just want you to know that if you're still feeling horny, you have my permission to do whatever you damn please to _Iris_."


	4. Jonesy

Clayton Jones stirred, opened his eyes, then sat up and examined his bloody shirt.

 _What the -? Am I losin' my mind?_

What he remembered was almost beyond belief. _Sofie_ shooting him?

And he didn't seem to be injured. Yet the blood, and the bullet hole in the shirt, proved he'd really been shot.

 _Ye gods. Did Hawkins change me somehow, when he healed me? Make me so I can't be hurt?_

That couldn't be the explanation. _Hawkins knows his own powers, an' he's a decent guy. If he'd done somethin' like that, he woulda told me._

 _But maybe, even if he ain't here now, it was him that healed me this time too..._

 _No, that don't make sense. How could he have found me? Why would he leave before I came to?_

He noted that the bald-headed guy was gone. That in itself wasn't surprising. He hadn't thought he'd hit the thug hard enough to kill him.

 _But if he came to an' found Sofie hadn't killed me, he woulda finished me off himself. She'd prob'ly taken his gun, but he coulda strangled me easy, while I was unconscious._

So something _very_ strange was going on.

He got to his feet and took a better look at his surroundings.

And shuddered.

Grass, bushes, trees - _everything_ was dead. The unnatural silence told him there were no birds around, either.

He started walking, in a daze. Trying to convince himself that at any moment, the world would snap back to normal. _When I get past this next dead tree...this patch o' dead bushes..._

 _Oh God. What if I'm the only livin' thing left anywhere?_

He broke into a run, and didn't stop till he reached the outskirts of the New Canaan camp.

x

x

x

That was when he began seeing bodies. Humans, pets, cows and goats kept for milking. He'd speculated about being alone in the world, but the idea hadn't seemed _real_ till now.

As it turned out, however, he wasn't alone. He was checking the inside of a tent (four dead, two of them children) when he heard a car. Peering from behind the tent flap, he saw the bald-headed guy at the wheel, Brother Justin beside him. Surveying the damage.

 _Damn. Of all people to be alive!_

 _Hawkins may be their enemy, but he didn't cause this, no way. He's a good man. Saved my life, when he'd never been that close to either me or Libby, just acquaintances. In fact, his stoppin' to help us - 'cuz he was too good-hearted to pass us by - made him too late to save his father._

 _Sofie, on the other hand... When I last saw her, she had the eyes o' some kind o' demon. She shot me when I was **savin'** her, for God's sake! An' she knew I'd risked my life for her before, when I saved her from the fire. _

_Hawkins didn't cause this. An' bad as Brother Justin is, I can't see him causin' it either. Not killin' this many of his own people._

 _That leaves Sofie._

 _Shit._

He waited till the car was out of sight and earshot. While he was looking at the dead father of the tent's little family, he considered exchanging his bloody shirt for the man's shabby but clean one. But in the end, he couldn't bring himself to rob a corpse. When he was sure Justin and his henchman were gone, he set out again, running as fast as his legs would carry him.

 _The carnival...Hawkins... **Libby!**_

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he ran. _Dear God, don't let them be dead. Don't let that_ _ **thing**_ _win!_ He couldn't imagine her motives, and he didn't care. He only knew she was a monster, had always been a monster, and he - and Libby - had made fools of themselves by loving her.

 _The carnival...Hawkins... **Libby!**_

x

x

x

At last he reached the carnival grounds...and found them deserted. He collapsed, and lay sobbing with relief till no more tears were left in him.

 _They ain't here. No reason to think they're dead, 'cuz the dead **are** here - tents, cars, an' all._

 _The carnival got away._

 _Assumin' there's still a world to get away to, an' they ain't layin' dead just down the road..._

Another nasty thought surfaced in his mind.

 _I caused all this. It happened 'cuz instead o' stayin' to help Hawkins, I ran off to save that ingrate Sofie!_

 _Suppose Hawkins killed Brother Justin. It makes sense he may o' had to kill the bald-headed guy, too. If the bald-headed guy had already killed Sofie, all woulda been well. But 'cuz I'd stopped him - an' freed Sofie - she was able to do somethin' that made every livin' creature in the valley dead, an' every dead creature alive! Justin. The bald-headed guy. An' while she prob'ly didn't intend it, **me**._

He thought he was about to be sick.

But instead of giving in, he got to his feet and began running again.

 _Get outta this place._

 _Get back to the clean, free outside world._

 _Get back to **Libby!**_

x

x

x

After an hour on the highway, he regretted not having stolen that clean shirt. _Shoulda known no one would stop to pick up a hitchhiker lookin' like I do._

But a minute later, _three_ drivers came to a screeching halt.

Unfortunately, they were all driving police cars.

Jonesy decided there was no point in running. He couldn't get away, and flight would just make him look more guilty - of something.

Getting out of his car, one of the cops demanded, "You with the carnival?"

He hesitated, then said, "Yeah. Been with them for years, the manager will vouch for me."

That was the wrong answer. Six officers came at him, and within seconds he was in handcuffs.

"I ain't done nothin'!"

The one who seemed to be in charge bellowed, "We know what happened in New Canaan! You were seen fleein' the place. You're an outsider, a carny, there after the rest o' the carnival left. An' you got blood on you!"

"Look," Jonesy protested, "I saw some o' the dead, so o' course I ran. Who wouldn't be scared shitless by what happened back there? But however those people died, there was no blood shed -"

"Not with most o' the deaths, no," said the cop. "But we just heard that a few victims, found near the carnival grounds, were killed with a bladed weapon. One of 'em was an old man - a minister!" He seemed more scandalized by that than by the bloodless deaths of thousands: it was easier to grasp.

Jonesy shuddered. _Christ. Musta been poor old Balthus._

So all the dead had been restored to life, _except_ those killed - presumably - by the Usher himself.

"The blood on me is my own -"

"Oh yeah? Where's the wound?"

He had no choice but to clam up. _Who'd believe the truth?_

But as he was thrust into the back seat of a car, he heard one cop muttering to another. "Whaddya bet the brass will keep this arrest secret? Strangest case ever, only lead they got. They'll hang onto the guy an' keep puttin' more pressure on him till he talks."

"Right," the second uniform agreed. "He'll just vanish, never be heard of again. Even if he _does_ talk."

Jonesy swore under his breath.

Then he closed his eyes...and imagined himself back with the carnival. Not in California, but in Loving, New Mexico. Watching as flames consumed the psychics' converted school bus. Knowing Sofie was trapped inside.

In his new fantasy, he cheered on the fire. Screaming at the top of his lungs, _**"Burn, witch, burn!"**_


	5. Lodz

Another man opened his eyes - and hissed in irritation. Then he sat up, and began methodically running his hands over his face and clothing.

 _Hmm. It seems that if this process began by utilizing a handy body, it turned it into a replica of my former one. Even the clothes feel identical to those I last wore._

 _Quite satisfactory, on the whole. Given a choice, I would have preferred to be sighted - and forty years younger! But this will do nicely._

Smiling, Lodz got to his feet and carefully explored his surroundings. He was right where he'd intended to be, inside one of New Canaan's many tents. At present, he was sharing it with two corpses. The restoration process hadn't provided him with a cane, but he could improvise something; all that mattered for now was that he was safely indoors, not attracting attention by stumbling around the camp.

 _These young Avatars are so predictable! Charming children. Even Hawkins would have been manageable if Belyakov hadn't betrayed me._

He put that unpleasant memory out of his mind, and dwelt instead on the accuracy of his recent guesses.

 _I knew that when Sofie came face to face with her father, it wouldn't take her long to realize what he is, and what **she** is. I was right in believing Hawkins would succeed in killing Crowe, and Sofie would restore him to life - for one reason or another. As I expected, she made such exuberant use of her power that she killed all the living things in the valley, and restored to life all the dead things._

 _Including the only **ghost** who'd foreseen the opportunity!_

His fertile mind was already hatching another plan.

 _I have to get back to my sweet Lila "in the flesh," as I promised. But that will take time._

 _First, I want to revisit the carnival in my astral body. Transporting to any of the familiar trailers should be easy. If I can take control of Ruthie again, I'll have a real chance of killing Hawkins while he's in a weakened condition._

What a glorious triumph that would be! The boy who'd killed _him_ as dead as that swine Belyakov, his adoring Ruthie forced to live with the knowledge that her hands had done the deed...

 _But I should be realistic. It's a chance, no more than that. If I can't kill him, my visit will serve to keep my enemies believing I'm still a ghost. Then I'll be able to take them by surprise when I show up in person._

He nodded smugly, congratulating himself on his foresight.

 _And now, with the plan in place, it's time to think of other things. I wonder if these pious folk had any alcohol in their tent?_


	6. Sofie

Sofie wasn't really unconscious when the odd-looking man found her in the back of a Carnivale truck, but she gave a good performance.

Looking at him through half-closed eyelids, she thought, _Who on earth is this? Is he a stowaway himself?_ She'd expected to be discovered by someone she knew, probably a roustie. And she'd hoped it wouldn't happen till she'd had more time alone with her thoughts.

She'd been upset, with good reason, throughout her drive in pursuit of the carnival. And it was only ten minutes ago that she'd caught up with it - stopped, mysteriously, in the middle of the road. She'd used her newly discovered powers to make her car and herself invisible, abandoned the car, and strolled past two conversing rousties to let herself into the last truck in the convoy. A neat solution to the problem of where she'd come from: she could claim she'd run after the truck and climbed aboard as it was leaving New Canaan, then passed out from exhaustion.

Opening her eyes a little wider, she studied the stranger. _No, not a stowaway._ He wore _half_ a mustache, while the other side of his face was clean-shaven. That identified him as a "he-she," new to the troupe. Probably, in real life, a completely normal male.

"You all right, miss?" he was asking. "C'mon, wake up! What are you doin' here? Did you run away from that New Canaan place?"

"Oh!" She pretended to come to with a start. "Oh, please...help me! I did run away from New Canaan, but I belong here! My name is Sofie -"

" _Sofie?_ Oh Jesus. Are you the fortune teller? The one who left Carnivale back before Damascus?"

"Y-yes. Please help me!" she pleaded. "I n-never should have gone to New Canaan...I made such a terrible mistake..."

"Everythin's gonna be okay," he assured her. "You're home now."

"No, no!" she wailed. "Nothing's okay! J-Jonesy...Jonesy's dead! He was killed...rescuing me...oh, I'm so ashamed!" She managed to produce the appropriate burst of tears.

"Jonesy's dead?" the man echoed. He was shaking now. "God, that's awful. I mean, we were afraid somethin' had happened to him, but I couldn't believe...oh, shit." He patted her awkwardly, trying to console her. "Look, you can't stay here. Come with me, an' I'll take you to our trailer...I mean, mine an' my wife's. My name's Bert, my wife is Sabina...c'mon, she'll take care o' you...you need to be with another woman!"

 _They were probably with Daily Brothers_ , Sofie realized. She'd been too caught up in her own problems to want any contact with the refugees the carnival had met that night.

 _That night..._

How blind she'd been! Well, it was excusable then, because thanks to Apollonia, she hadn't even known what _she_ was. But when she discovered the truth about her father, and then herself, she should have realized Ben Hawkins was another Being with supernatural powers. How else to explain her mother, Lodz, and Management having been so interested in him - and those strange Tarot readings?

Instead, she'd thought an ordinary young man had succeeded in killing Justin to avenge his father. She'd been caught completely by surprise by Justin's rant about his fellow "Prophet" and his special weapon.

 _I have to find out whether Ben's still alive._

"Th-thank you, Bert," she choked out between sobs. She let him put an arm around her and help her up. "I've made such a mess of things...trusted Brother Justin...but something was wrong, the men around him were thugs...killed Jonesy! Oh God, Jonesy!" She buried her face in Bert's shoulder.

"Easy now," he said kindly. "C'mon along to our trailer, an' Sabina can, uh, make you some tea."

"All right." She sniffled. "And...I didn't understand what was going on...but they _took me hostage_ for some reason! And I'd run into Ben Hawkins in New Canaan...he said Brother Justin killed his father...and wanted to kill him...none of it makes any _sense!_ " That brought her - finally - to the question she wanted to ask. "Is Ben all right?"

"Uh, I dunno." Bert was shaking his head. "A lot has happened since you left. You may not know - Hawkins is somethin' more than a normal roustie. He had a fight with Brother Justin. The last I heard, he was hurt bad, but still alive. But there's stuff goin' on that I don't understand, like the carnival bein' stopped here. Right now, it's anyone's guess."

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Not Ben...dear God, please don't let anything happen to Ben! Not on top of losing Jonesy. Please...we've suffered enough, we can't take any more!"

"Damn right," Bert said mournfully. "We can't."

 _Good_ , she told herself. _He's buying my act. Everyone else should buy it, too. Even Ben, if he survives to hear it._

Someday, she supposed, she might regret having killed Jonesy...and the thousands of others she'd wiped out with a single venomous thought. But not now, not yet.

The revelation she'd received in that shed was that _she possessed power_. She didn't have to be a victim all her life. Didn't have to be persecuted or patronized or held prisoner - or for that matter, "rescued"! And oh yes, she'd enjoyed her first heady uses of that power...wielding it like a bludgeon against the man who'd spurned her apology and her love, against the less-than-men who'd stupidly given their allegiance to a demon. (Never mind that she'd done the same.)

The only emotion she felt now was _hatred -_ of the father who'd spoiled her big moment, made her see herself as a powerless girl again.

During her headlong flight from him, she'd begun to wonder if he'd told her the truth. If he even knew the truth.

 _I had visions! Visions in which people looked at me and said, "Every Prophet in her House." Every **Prophet** , in **her** House..._

 _Could it be that I already am, not a "Princess" in Justin Crowe's House, but Prophet of my own?_

 _That I did have the strength required to kill him - held in my hands a "suitable" weapon, that scythe - and I **let him convince me** I couldn't do it?_

 _Do I really need Ben Hawkins?_

Whether or not she needed Ben, she envisioned him as her unwitting ally, not her enemy. She hoped he wasn't dead or dying.

 _But I can't use my powers to help him. And if he lives, I'll have to be on my guard constantly. He'll turn against me and seek to destroy me if he learns what I am, what I've done._

For that, she did - to her surprise - feel a twinge of regret.

In recent months, she'd come to value Ben as a friend. She hadn't attached much importance to their lovemaking on the road to Damascus; since he wasn't willing to leave the carnival with her, she'd viewed it as a farewell. But the friendship _had_ been important. And now, while she'd still be seeing him, she could never be open and honest with him again.

As she let Bert lead her from the truck to his and Sabina's trailer, supporting and comforting her all the way, she realized some of her tears were real.


	7. Justin

_Nooo! **Stop! Come back!**_

Justin's eyes flew open and he sat up, panting.

 _No, dammit, not again!_

 _Only a nightmare_ , he told himself, as he flung off his sheet and launched himself out of bed. _At least I'm not screaming out loud. And it means nothing, nothing!_

He paced the floor in his bare feet, trying to control his trembling. _What was that, the tenth time? Whenever I close my eyes..._

 _Forget it! Put it out of my mind, think about something else. Think about all that's going well!_

Police and the press had been receptive to his blaming the New Canaan massacre on the "Antichrist." As he'd hoped, newspaper and radio reports suggested his hilltop home had been spared because of his "saintliness."

Iris would tell no one otherwise. If she hadn't been deranged before Stroud had his way with her, she was now.

Rev. Balthus was a known member of his household who had to be accounted for; so he'd let the police find the victims of his scythe rampage. All those bodies were near what had been the carnival site (the departing carnies had laid them out reverently and covered them with sheets!). Radio newscasts reported a rumor that the cops had arrested a fleeing carny. _Heh. They'll probably charge the sword swallower!_

It was unlikely anyone would be charged with causing the thousands of medically unexplainable deaths. _What would the charge be? Witchcraft?_ Justin still hadn't heard whether Benjamin St. John had come forward. But it hardly mattered, from the point of view of legal consequences. The truth, if anyone told it, would seem even more outrageous than Justin's lies.

As for the conflict of the Avatars, young Ben might still be alive, but he'd been thwarted in his best chance to take out his opponent. No, his _only_ chance.

 _I have nothing to fear. Nothing!_

 _Relax with a glass of warm milk, then go back to sleep._

x

x

x

He took his own advice.

And fifteen minutes later he was hurtling out of bed again, stifling a scream.

 _Damn!_

After another round of frenetic pacing, he collapsed in a chair and buried his face in his hands.

 _It's not just the nightmare._ There, admit it. _The real problem is that by now, I don't know - if I ever did - whether what I see in that nightmare was real._

 _Up to a point, yes, of course, it all really happened. Sofie and me, what she said, what I said. But how did our encounter **end?**_

 _What did I see in those last moments?_

 _How can I possibly not be sure?_

He went over it all again in his mind. What she said, what he said...

xxx

 _"I can only be killed by a Prophet," he told her, gloating. "Even he must use a certain kind of weapon, a blade that's killed another Avatar. And Ben - if he's alive - no longer has one."_

 _He went on to make the sadistic point that Ben could only obtain another suitable weapon by killing yet another Avatar._

 _Sofie turned and fled. He saw that she was headed for Stroud's car._

 _What had been Stroud's car._

 _"Do you understand?" he shouted after her. His voice rose to a howl. "If Ben is still out there and wants to kill me, he first has to kill another Avatar! And the only one remaining is **you!** " _

xxx

She reached the car...and stopped to look back at him.

And then...and then...

He closed his eyes and saw it clearly. But had he ever _really_ seen it? He didn't know!

He only knew that in his nightmare, Sofie transformed once again into a black-eyed, grotesquely grinning demon. She held up a shining object, a trophy so small he hadn't seen her retrieve it from where it must have lain in the field.

He screamed, "Nooo! _Stop! Come back!_ "

But Sofie leapt in the car and sped away, taking with her _the still-lethal blade of Ben's dagger_.

x

x

x

The End


End file.
